Raise Hell
by Raven Of Dark
Summary: There was a reason he was feared and his reasons for leaving were entirely his own. but now, he's got every reason to come back.
1. Chapter 1

The hand held within his own was pale, lifeless and lacking anything remarkable beyond the bruising and discoloration that scattered like Rorschach patterns; in fact, the only way he could tell the small child was alive was the weak pulse beating beneath his fingers and the minuscule, wheezed breaths that lifted the chest. But still, the child lived, despite several days of the horrid condition inflicted upon them; indeed, the child had survived _years_ of neglect and abuse at the hands of _creatures_ not worthy of being called human.

"There's spirit in you yet, little dove." He whispered, dark eyes moving from the child to the cowering figure on the floor. "I was going to walk away from this deal, let you deal with the aftermath, _BUT_ I changed my mind-I do that." His eyes grew sharp, lips twisted violently upward.

The man stepped away from the unconscious child, steps not unlike a predator stalking his prey towards the figure, who squeaked and moved back until they hit the putrid coloured chair they had been in not twenty minutes ago.

"I don't _like_ the mess you've created. You've hurt what's _mine_!" The man's voice was ice, anger hitting the figure like a knife. "Now you're going to pay."

With a snap of his fingers, a taller man stepped into the room, his hazel eyes sharp while taking in the scene before nodding. He slipped his hand into his jacket, removing a slender metal item before firing four rounds into the figures knees, ignoring the howls of pain that rang out before turning the unconscious figures on the floor near the window, a questioning look to the first man, who waved him off.

"Yes, yes, take care of that Sebastian, I have other concerns." He then leaned over, hands gracefully moving the small child off the couch, a small cover wrapped around them, pausing when a pained hitch in the child's breath sounded before they settled. "Do hurry up Seb, I do not have all day."

Sebastian nodded while the other man moved from the disgusting house; it might be spotless and pristine, but the sheer amount of dirty laundry from those inside broke the illusion and the man would be _damned_ if he would leave the child there any longer. It had taken him too long to locate them and he was taking what was his back and would keep them safe; no matter what. His dark eyes sharpened again while looking over the too numerous injuries that blanketed the child's pale skin; this would _not_ stand.

Stepping off the curb towards a sleek town car, he quickly but carefully got in, holding his charge close to his chest, taking note of every ragged pained breath they took, his anger building once again. He bite his cheek, not wanting to wake the small bundle in his arms with his rants: instead, he began to form his plan to gain satisfaction for both himself and the child. The ones responsible would be reminded why he wasn't one to be messed with for allowing his blood to be placed in such an environment.

It was time for magical Britain to be reintroduced to James Moriarty.

A/N: been sitting on this for months. Haven't had much time to write anything and finally found some to get this down. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken a full week before the child was out of danger of passing in their sleep, according to the harassed physician James had…'acquired' just after arriving at his home with the child. The internal injuries delayed the healing process, making James regret having the grotesquely obese man & his family killed so quickly. Every pained breath that filled the small room spike his anger at the knowledge that _his_ blood had been put into this state  & laid there clinging to life for several days before one day the physician declared them over the hump, the vitals showing promise, calming his anger; if only a touch.

It had taken another three days before their eyes opened and locked on James with a colour so green he would have thought them fake were the child not in front of him. The fear and mistrust in those eyes twisted his gut but he was an excellent actor, thus kept his rage from the small being on the bed.

"Little dove," his voice was barely a whisper, but the child focused onto him immediately, "you're in a safe place now, and no one will hurt you again." He held still in the chair, not moving a single inch, in hopes that this would calm the child. "I swear I will never let you come to harm again. You have nothing to fear from me." He couldn't remember the last time he was able to use his stage voice for a purpose other than intimidation, but it appeared he hadn't lost his touch.

Their green eyes were filled with fear, pain, and questions; he could see the child's brain going over every word that left James' lips, not knowing what to trust. But, James took a small victory when the small fists let go of the cover before sliding back down and curling up, sleep over taking them again; the victory came when the child didn't flinch when he reached to move the cover over the child's shoulders, nor did they move away when his fingers brushed the hair from their face, anger building again when the wound showed itself on their forehead.

But, he moved quietly out of the room, finding the physician waiting.

"Out of danger, but sir, your daughter is severely underweight, only about ten kilograms. She will have a long journey ahead of her. I can help set her up with some medications, but it will be slow for her to gain any weight. I don't even think solid foods would be proper for her for at least 3 months; I'll make sure you are provided with the correct nutrition plans."

James nodded, still watching the man, eyes glinting with rage and disgust, prompting the physician to continue so he could leave as quickly as he could.

"Thankfully, I found no signs of sexual abuse, but the physical was enough to damage her enough: her arms have been broken several times, joints dislocated multiple times, layers of scars from what could only have been belt lashings, & she's had concussions far too many times. All the injuries now are healing, but the damage to her internal organs should have killed her; I don't know how sh-"

A bullet between his eyes stopped his rambling quickly, James' arm dropping a second later. "Man does not Shut UP." His voice was crazed, moving back into the room, dropping into the chair by her bed again; pleased the gun shot hadn't disturbed her before falling silent, his brain going into overdrive.

* * *

Several weeks later, she sat on the edge of the bed, watching James carefully before sliding down and walking carefully over to him, frame stiff from both extended bed rest and fear of the unknown outcome of her actions. She stopped two feet from his knee, extending her fingers until the gripped the edge of his trousers, something clicking in her head because she looked at him with eyes filled with something other than fear for the first time since she arrived: hope.

Her lips cracked open, hesitating at first before continuing. "You asked me my name yesterday. The headmistress at my school calls me Amelia." Her voice was light, cracking, but steady.

This pleased James, who gave her a soft smile, leaning close to her. "But you don't like that name, do you little dove?" When she shook her head, he chuckled. "Then how about this? I propose we change it, something _much_ better and something fitting for you." She thought for a moment before nodding, eyes bright. "I suggest…Íonait." As soon as the Irish word fell from his lips, he saw her eyes light up before she nodded, her black hair bobbing with her head. "Excellent. Ionait Moriarty, welcome home."

A/N: Thank you for the likes, favorites, reviews. They mean a lot to me. I don't think I'm going to go very long with each chapter, makes it easier for me and for you. Normally I would have several thousand words but at this time, its not in me to write that. But who knows what the future holds. Let me know what you think about this chapter :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Bright green eyes peered into her father's study from the top of the stairs, emotionally charged voices spilling out of the gap of the doorway; her father was deathly calm, the other men though were upset. But she felt no fear for her father nor herself. Felt no worry that any harm would befall her beloved father and this was because of who he is and what he helms on a daily basis. She knew from the start what her father did for a 'living', knew he was not like other dads; but he cared and protected her from the outside world and she cared about nothing other than that; her loyalty to her father and love of him was ironclad and nothing would change that.

Three years older and 15 kilograms healthier, Ionait was in almost peak condition: her hair was long, wavy and down to her waist in a French braid, her skin pink and fresh, bones stronger from years of calcium regimens, & her height on the up with her body's homeostasis in place for her proper development. The broken child that her father had found no longer existed, although she still could not stand to be around crowds or adults larger then herself, barring of course her father and Uncle Sebastian.

Speaking of the sniper, Ionait felt his presence behind her before his voice whispered in her ear.

"You shouldn't be spying little one."

When she turned her green orbs into his hazel, she was unsurprised to see him still dressed in his 'I'm-too-cool-for-you-and-you-know-it' suit, pistol holstered on his hip. There were strangers in this house and her uncle wouldn't 'relax' until he knew no other threats against the Moriarty's were present.

She grinned at him before whispering back. "Father says I'm to watch everything and report my findings on this meeting. I need to be unseen by the men in that room; otherwise they'd act differently around a child. Father wants to know if I can hear their true intentions from their voices."

After she turned back to the study, she felt Sebastian move to sit next to her before lifting her body to rest on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around her. "Well princess, what have you found so far?" He whispered again; chin resting lightly on her shoulder.

Grinning, Ionait replied in a soft tone. "One of the means to sell his partner out and then try to turn father over to the government; I think it's the small blonde man, he's very skittish. The other is very greedy and only wants to get what he wants from father without breaking into his checkbook." She paused suddenly when the loud voices dropped to harsh whispers. "Uncle, you should go."

She barely felt him leave nor did she hear him descend the steps, but she did see him fling the study doors open, his gun quickly putting the two men down before she followed, staying in the doorway, watching her father pace.

"Incompetent! Reckless! Such Bad Dressers! I can't associated with people who can't even put a proper suit together." His voice was strained and anger laced, but his pacing was contained to the area around his desk, telling Ionait that he would be safe to approach.

Which she did, moving quickly around the bodies on the hardwood floor before crawling up to sit on her father's desk, feet swinging, drawing the Irishman's attention; his fingers cupped her cheeks, his eyes bright while taking her in, drawing a bright smile from her. Even after all this time, little acts of affection made her heart swell; he was cold, calculative, disastrous, chaotic and destructive in 99.999% of his life, but with her, she was loved, kept and cherished.

"My little dove, have you been practicing?" His tone was calm, as if he no longer cared for the about the two men who now stained his study floor; Ionait knew this to be true because her father tended not to dwell on the things mattered little.

Nodding, she closed her eyes and focused on the items littering the desk before they slowly began to rise and spin in the air. When her father's laughter sounded, she slowly opened her eyes again, her own excitement matching his when she was able to keep the focus maintained; not a single item dropped until she asked them to, giggling when they landed in their exact same spots.

"Excellent my dear, I knew you'd get it." Her father's warm lips on her forehead drew a soft sigh from her. "So much power in you little dove, the world will be yours soon."

Ionait giggled again, not unlike her father's. "Then we'll get back at everyone?"

Her father's manic grin drew a matching one from her. "We'll burn them all, my dearest: Every Single One."

Laughter filled the room again as she kissed his cheek before jumping off the desk and over the corpses before skipping out of the room, a more sedate sniper following her out of the house, his lips turning up a little as she flung her blood stained flats at the nearest object, the neighboring window shattering-not that Ionai bothered to respond, her giggles floating around the air.

Sebastian knew for a fact that wizarding Britain had no idea what they would get in a few short years. Watching his precious niece bounce around the yard, her long braid flying behind her, he could only snort with amusement as the image of Albus Dumbledore meeting his precious 'girl-who-lived'. That would be worth buying a video camera for; if only to play for Jim when he was upset.

* * *

A/N: Hello all! So, the reviews have been very wonky and while I did see the reviews come in, I couldn't respond for several days, so I left them until now:

HP Girl 28: if you couldn't tell from above, this is not a cover up- this is indeed a fem!harry fic.

Kathlynscutekid: So her name is Irish, as I said in the last chapter and can be both spelt Ionait or Enat and is pronounced (EEN nit)


	4. Chapter 4

She could hear her name being called from some far away point, but Ionait failed to respond, deep into her meditative state, knives floating around her in lazy spinning patterns, marks covering her walls, floor and bed posts. She had been holding the same stance for quite possibly the past three days or however long her father and uncle had been gone; it had been a personal experiment on how long she could maintain her magic before she felt any for exhaustion: so far, she hadn't even broken a sweat but did feel the prickling start up in her limbs from the extended period of sitting on the hardwood floor with no pillows underneath herself.

"Ionait Moriarty!" Her door was kicked open, her father's irritated image quickly pulling her from her state, the knives dropping instantly, imbedding into the cherry wood. "I've been calling you."

Her eyes snapped open, an apology ready to slip out of her lips, but paused when she noticed a thick envelope in her father's hands. She could see that it was made out of parchment, the ink on the front done with an old fashion quill as no modern day pen made such fluid marks and was addressed to one ' _Ms Amelia Potter, 9 Sheffield Terrace, London, England._ ' She pulled a face at the name, standing gracefully before walking over towards her father.

"That the infamous Hogwart's letter then?" She didn't reach for it, not wanting acknowledge the name. " **How many times do you think I'll have to teach then my proper name?** "

" **The wizarding world is full of normals and ignorant simpletons dearest, so far too many times for either of our likings.** "

"You know, not everyone understand Gaelic you two."

Ionait grinned innocently up at her uncle, her eyes glinting with hidden mirth. "That's the fun dearest uncle: myself being able to insult someone to their face without them knowing."

Sebastian suppressed a groan when father and daughter sported twin smiles, both wide and, were he not used to it already, terrifying to witness. Ionait had progressed faster than expected, already gaining skills meant for students in their 7th year; Albus and the Ministry really had no idea what was coming. "I suggest we look into the letter, as we do need to get her school things before we venture to Russia."

At the mention of the frozen country, Ionait perked up further, close to bouncing in place. "OOOOHHHHH! Does that mean I'm visiting Uncle Putin?!"

This was the girl who Wizarding Britain wanted to defend them from evil…Sebastian couldn't help but laugh, drawing his employer's attention, who quickly began laughing himself once the sniper explained himself.

"The ministry will be standing on its head when we're through with them, won't we little dove?"

The evil snicker that left the small heiress sent the tiniest shiver down the sniper's back, extremely glad that he had her love and good graces; he would not want to be her enemy any time soon.

"I wonder if I can convert the minister's office into a throne room? OH wait, even better, a mobile throne. I can stalk the people in the building, running them over…." Ionait trails off a little before composing herself. "Of course such actions would be childish and unbecoming a child of our house, correct father?"

This only brought further snickers from her father, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before opening her letter. "If you knew the history of the Moriarty family in the wizarding world, a mobile throne room would be considered very tame." His dark eyes skimmed over the letter, sneering at the continued use of ' _Miss Potter_ ' before handing the offending item to Ionait. "Remind me to have your name officially changed at Gringotts tomorrow, dove. Need to clear this up quickly before you enter that school."

When she nodded, he threw his arm around her shoulder before moving them towards the library, spoils of his and Sebastian's trip waiting for her. The sniper paused behind them, not entering at first, his hazel eyes on his mobile going over messages, when Ionait's loud squealing caught his attention.

"You Got Me A New Rifle?! You guys are the best!"

Yep, Hogwarts had no idea what was heading it's way.

* * *

A/N: ok, closer to the wizarding world meeting Ms Moriarty. Thoughts? I like reviews, they sustain the poor Soybean that I am.


	5. Chapter 5

She had sneered at the gaudy white stone building before her father led her into the wizarding bank-really who could blame her, when the cliché message about thieves greeted individuals was above the main doors before her and the goblins acted like she was a bug to be destroyed under their rather horrid looking metal boots?

That was three hours ago.

Now, leaving the office of the manager of the now combined vaults of the Potter & Moriarty houses, Ionait's face held a wicked grin that mirrored her father, who was tossing the signet ring in the air, the three headed bronze raven of the Moriarty crest glinting in the mid-morning sun. She had her own ring for the Potter House now that she was officially emancipated in the wizarding world via Gringotts belief that the ministry had no say on how the goblin nation ran its banks and the houses it managed; the goblin manger Trunablits had been concerned when father & daughter starting snickering menacingly after the paperwork was signed, only relaxing when the pair's backs were hidden by his closed door.

"So, this little thing keeps the old fuddler off my back?" She asked, looking up at her father, her grin still stretched across her face.

"Not just that dove, this will enable both of us to get the web right where we want it."

Ionait snickered, linking her arms with her father after pocketing her ring, intent on using her new ladyship to its advantage; it held SO many perks.

" _Hmmmm, I wonder if I can get the ministry to support a takeover of Hoggywarts if I play it right? I think uncle Putin has connections with the troll population…_ " Her own thoughts caused her to laugh darkly, her emerald eyes glinting.

James Moriarty loved chaos and he loved his daughter. He was never more proud than he was in the moments where his little dove created chaos so astounding he wanted to commission a playwright to document her adventures. Watching her face, his chest puffed out a little with pride, tucking her arm tighter in his. Oh the plans the pair would enact once she made it to the school.

They weaved their way through the alley, picking up her trunk first so she could stash every item she acquired, legal and otherwise. They got her wand quickly, the old man quickly becoming number 73 on her list of people to avoid; his ability to avoid both Moriartys' senses until he was literally at her back worried both of them greatly.

Now, she found herself surrounded by books, yelling across the store at her father, who was in the legal section.

" **Did you know that there are twenty ways to hang a person upside down by their toes? We could use this, on those spies we found in Jordon. OHHH Da! I found a skinning spell that you can direct at certain body parts!** "

Ionait heard his chuckle all the way in her self made mini fort.

" **Well, we know what we're doing when we go to Moscow. Make sure you 'acquire' that book little dove.** "

Smirking, she slipped the book, along with several other tomes of various subjects into her trunk before standing- the trunk shrunk with a simple tap of three different runes, turning only to find a large redheaded woman in her path. The portly woman in front of- dear lord there were six more- her was berating a pair of twins about how 'they shouldn't even think of trying to corrupt Ronald this year or there would be consequences.' Ronald must be the smallest boy, the dirt covered child actually picking his nose in front of every single person in the bookstore. The sneer that spread across Ionait's face was not contained as she cleared her throat, directing the attention of the gaggle of gingers towards her.

"If you could move, I'd like to leave." Her tone was chilled, already irritated with the group.

With the exception of the twins, who only had curious looks on the faces, the group was staring at her with agape mouths. Ionait realized their eyes were trained on her forehead, namely the scar that resided on the far right side, the lightning bolt now a pale pink. She had her hair back on a French braid, as she normally did, bringing attention to the annoying scar.

"What Are You Looking At?" She hissed at them, glaring.

"You're Amelia Potter!"

"Oh my dear, wherever have you been? You disappeared years ago! You shouldn't have worried us!"

Anger flooded her, causing her to stand straight, eyes trained on the portly woman. "I wasn't aware I had to report my every move to the general public. Also, please refrain from addressing me with that name." Internally, Ionait applauded herself on mirroring her father's tone perfectly.

The woman bristled, her face turning almost the same shade as her hair. "Young Lady, how dare you speak like that! You had an obligation t-"

She was cut off by Ionait pushing past her, her braid flicking back to smack the woman in the face-not hard enough to hurt but enough to shut the portly parrot up. "I owe nothing. Do try to remember that, you plebian."

Moving to walk out of the shop, she felt a hand wrap her wrist. Turning her head sharply, she felt her skin crawl when she saw Ronald's filthy fingers touching her. "Oi, you can't just go!" Even his voice bothered her; it sounded dirt covered like his nose.

She moved close, the dagger sliding out of its holster on her forearm easily with a twitch, pressing the tip to his abdomen, right between two ribs before whispering harshly but at a level only he heard. "Touch me again, little rat and I will have no qualms about _gliding this blade to your heart_. Do you understand me?"

She ripped her wrist out of his grip before marching out of the store, seething. She felt her father slide up next to her, wiping her wrist down with a cleanser pad, anger in his eyes as well.

"He's first." This was the last thing she said before her father apparated them out of the alley back to their home, plans flying in the study well into the night.

* * *

A/N: ok, longest chapter yet. I had to reign myself in, so I wouldn't start rambling. But we've now started her introduction to the WW. Thoughts? Comments?


	6. Chapter 6

Ionait leaned in close to the blonde man, who was trembling from fear and exhaustion, her eyes locked on his with a wicked grin on her face; a long knife held loosely in her fingertips but the sharp edge held against his throat. He tried to pull away from her, but the chains holding his wrists over his head prevented this-that and the barbed wire wrapped around his calves, attaching him to the metal chair beneath him.

"You do not understand how lucky you are that I have to hurry. I don't have time to try the new technique Uncle Sebby taught me. Shame really, you were starting to amuse me."

The man's eyes widen comically at her sickly sweet voice, barely able to make any noise to stop her before the blade slid across his jugular, red liquid spilling out and staining his already ruined shirt. She stepped back, not wanting to stain her new flats and tights, humming to herself as she watched the man's blood flow slow until it trickled to a stop.

"Okaaaaay~ someone please clean that up for me, I've got a date with Gandalf." She sing-songed to a couple of the suit clad men that were flanking the doorway before skipping off, her white skirt swishing around her as she made her way to her father's study, finding him and her uncle waiting to leave. "Do I _have_ to ride a train? There has to be a…more  modern way to go a secluded boarding school in the depths of a different country." Her hands were resting in her hips, pale pink lips pouting.

"Sorry little dove, if I had my way you wouldn't mingle with the common rabble, but apparently it's 'tradition'. Basic and plebian is what it is." Her father then started to rant on their way to the car, her trunk stashed in the boot so they only had to slide into idling auto. Ionait couldn't help the laughs that spilled from her lips when her father's rant started branching off of the magical world, the Irishman's eyes lighting up further when she mentioned a certain detective and his blogger.

" **Do you think he's pieced together who I am yet? I think I dropped enough hints.** "

Her words caused her father to pause in his rant about 'ordinary people and pathetic forensic pathologists' before his brows furrowed. " **Sherly can be so blind for a genius; he failed to see your manipulations in the bank and in the street.** " Suddenly, his chuckling filled the car. " **This is going to be fun~** "

* * *

Standing in front of the crimson train, Ionait couldn't withhold her sneer at the throngs of people milling around the small Moriarty family. The sounds of owls, cats and loud families assaulted her ears, the numerous amounts of people causing her to unconsciously back into her uncle, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair, before he started whispering comforting words to her, hands rubbing small patterns.

Eventually, she let her father lead her through the crowd, Sebastian moving her trunk onto the last carriage, leaving father and daughter to talk, head tucked near each other while whispering to on another. The sniper stood by, hazel eyes constantly scanning the crowd, instantly seeing the redheaded males watching her from across the platform; the twin boys were whispering to each other as well while the taller be speckled male looked on with mild fascination. He interrupted his Moriartys to relay his observations, a smirk forming on his niece's lips.

"Excellent, I think found my web anchors." She was about to continue when the whistle blew, her smile dropping. "Blast it, I suddenly don't want to go." The last part was muttered but easily picked up by her two men.

Her father pulled her into another tight hug before pressing a kiss to her forehead, whispering "Go raibh tú éalú an scaffold, anacair a sheachaint, agus a bheith chomh sláintiúil mar breac."

Her light chuckle drew a tiny smile on the Irishman's lips before she pulled back with a mutter of ' _don't even have the damn gills for that_ ' & a quick kiss on both their cheeks before boarding the train & finding a compartment, waving at them with muted enthusiasm before the train pulled away.

" **I can do this…be strong girl, you're a Moriarty, not common rag.** "

Smoothing her hands down her white skirt, she looked up sharply when her door slid open, seeing the redhead twins in the archway. Instantly her face held a sweet smile and her eyes lit up. "Hullo, what can I do you for?" She tilted her head, the image of the sweet 'girl-who-lived' showing with a vengeance.

A/N: So, short but right where I wanted it. Had another section that didn't fit, so it was taken away. So, thoughts? Questions? The soybean would like your reviews~


	7. Chapter 7

- _So, I wanted to take a small break and give a little look into Ionait and Sebastian's relationship. We know how close Jim and her are but I wanted to show how deep Seb and her connection is.-_

Whenever Jim wasn't watching the small girl, Sebastian was; he shared the regret with his boss over letting the Dursley's die quickly every time when the ragged, pained breaths left her tiny form. She flinched at every sound, every movement, although he could see her trying to get used to the two men, who assured her on a daily basis that she was safe. Seb could feel her bright emerald eyes following his and Jim's movements whenever they were near her, unsure of anything they were doing.

Sebastian could understand in every way why she was terrified: she had spent the better part of five years with horrid monsters who starved and beat her for every breath or noise; she would take a long while before she even began healing. But that didn't imped the men's efforts to worm their way into her heart- Jim preferred simple conversation and would sit for hours in her room reading to her or just talking; it seemed to be working in a sense- when the child watched him, her eyes were filled with curiosity more than fear.

Sebastian used his surprisingly well rounded cooking techniques to both help her put weight on but also gain her positive attention; it was how he learned she had an allergy to carrots and couldn't keep dairy products down and also how much she loved chicken, eggs, & blackberries. Seb wasn't ashamed to say that he used the food to create his own positive connection with the girl & to form a trust-one that was rewarded with a bright smile directed towards him one evening after he brought her a small plate of sweetened berries and the permission to sit on her bed and share the treat with her.

* * *

Seven-year-old Ionait kept Seb on his toes, not that he really complained; honestly he adored every moment of it, especially when his niece let him teach her the finer points of stealth and 'hunting'. She took to the firearms training like a fish to water but knives were her strong point, the razor sharp objects allowing her to take out her built up angst and anger on whoever her father pointed out to her with ease and grace.

Then there were the times when Sebastian would see her teetering on the edge of a breakdown or a panic attack: the way her shoulders tenses, her breathing hitching in a certain way and her eyes would start to flicker rapidly around the area she was in. She hated crowds and large people around her, preferring to stick to Jim or himself if she had to go out into public; he learned quickly that petting her hair or rubbing her shoulders distracted her enough to keep her anxiety level and calm enough for them to get her home.

But the times he hated most were the after effects of her nightmares; he'd wake from a dead sleep to her screams of terror and pain & if Jim wasn't home, Sebastian would be at her side in an instant. Sometimes she stayed in the bed, curled up as close to the headboard as she could be, other times she'd be on the floor, huddled in the corner with her knees to her chest, loud sobs filling the room. The absolute worst was when she hid either under the bed or in the closet, every noise, even a simple breath from her father or uncle panicking her further.

Tonight was one of those evening where Jim was away, leaving Sebastian to sit outside her closet, her sobs twisting his stomach; she had left the door cracked in her attempt to hid, giving him a better chance to calm her down if she could hear him better. He started off just gently talking to her about anything but her nightmares before dropping off, her sniffles and hiccups replacing the sobs. Seb leaned his head back and closed his eyes, gently humming her favorite lullaby over and over, hearing her move to the edge of the closet until he felt her crawl into his lap and rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around her, fingers rubbing random patterns on her back while singing the song softly in her ear, ending it when he felt her sleeping once again.

" _Hushed from sorrow and repining,_ _Rest until the sun is shining,_ _In my loving arms reclining_ _  
_ _All through the night._ "

A/N: So a little insight into Ionait and Seb's relationship and the bond they have. This was a little bonus chapter for you guys :)


	8. Chapter 8

Something about having the ginger boys flanking her while sharing past stories relaxed Ionait greater then she thought she'd be able to; their chatter settled her anxiety over leaving her father and uncle, forcing her mind to watch them after learning of their various pranks, smartly wary of them as no one seemed immune to their antics.

"So, little miss, you mentioned something in Florish about-"

"-not wanting to be called by-"

"-Potter, I mean it _is_ your name, how come-"

"-you don't want it?"

Her mind swam for a moment from their duel speaking before she smirked, leaning her head back while twirling her wand in her fingers. "That's a simple answer boys: it is no longer my name." Her cryptic reply only prompted them to lean in closer, but she remained silent for several minutes, only grinning at the twins.

But it was a soft snort from the other side of the compartment that broke the quiet. Percy shook his head, letting his book drop to his lap. "Obviously it's not your name if you don't like to be called by it, but pray tell what do you call yourself?"

Grinning brightly at the older redhead, Ionait tucked her wand behind her ear. "I guess it's only fair, if I want to be addressed properly. Hello my dear gentlemen, my name is Ionait Moriarty, pleasure to make your acquaintance." She snickered when Percy's eyes widened along with his mouth dropping open a little; that's the response she wanted _and_ expected.

"As…As in…As in the old Irish Moriarty line…" The older redhead _actually_ looked nervous. "Thought they…thought that line died out."

"Ta, that's what everyone thinks; father told me they 'left' because they were _bored_ with the wizarding world."

Percy snorted again. "I think you're great-great grandmother nearly burning down the Ministry had a hand in the Ancient and Noble House of Moriarty disappearing."

A wicked grin spread across Ionait's face. "Grandmother Isabella had a minor misunderstandin' with the minister. Not her fault the candles flew from the wall onto his piles of paperwork on his wee desk."

Fred and George chuckled, slinging their arms around her shoulders, speaking in unison this time. "Something about an Irish/English accent on a firstie is adorable, isn't Perc?" A twitch under his left eye was the only response their brother gave.

"So Percy, where are you headed after you leave Hogwarts?" She feigned interest easily after years of acting lessons from her father, so drawing the older male into talking about his personal self was simple; he took the bait and soon she had all three Weasley's baring their plans for their futures, her mind already weaving her web. After they paused, she appeared deep in thought for a moment before grinning.

"Well, I'm sure father would be delighted to take you on Percy. He likes people with ambition and you'd do just fine." She smiled brightly, earning a blushed but preening redhead.

' _Hook, line and sinker._ ' Ionait felt herself sit a little straighter while cackling internally at the thought of already having three minions before even stepping foot into the castle. ' _Father would be so proud._ ' Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't so bad after all.

* * *

Alright, even she could be wrong at times.

This was proven by the hundreds of eyes that watched her having a staring match with Professor Tight Bun, who kept calling her 'Amelia Potter' after skipping over her actual name. The stand-off had started ten minutes ago, neither female budging from their positions; the only thing changing for them both was their anger level: Ionait's over her name being rejected by Professor Prude and said professor by Ionait's stubbornness. The whispers grew into full on chatter when the professor broke and marched forward, grabbing Ionait's arm, only to have it ripped from her grasp.

"Oi, watch who you grabbing granny. I'd 've replied to ye if ye only used me proper name." If Jim heard her now, he'd truly be upset; he had spent years perfecting her dictation that only got ruined when his daughter was upset & if there was one thing Jim detested, it was spoiled labor. "But ye insist on an ou'dated name. Check ye records, ye'll find I'm not thee precious Potter ye seek. I have a proper name that ye'll use or I walk." Her emerald eyes were lit up, a twisted sneer on her lips. "What be it: do I get to go home, because I'd like that very much. Gods know it's better than anything ye'll offer me here."

Professor Tight Bun pursed her lips before turning back to the head table, where Headmaster Fuddler sighed and inclined his head, the woman going still before her strained voice sounded

"Moriarty, Ionait."

The sneer dropped from said girl's lips. "There we be, that wasn't so hard." Practically skipping forward towards the dusty old hat, Ionait placed it herself on her head. She smiled at the other students while debating with the hat's voice over her placement. NO, She would most certainly _NOT_ be placed in a house with such gaudy colour schemes; she looked horrid in gold anyway. Finally winning with the ratty piece of cloth, she slipped it off just as a loud ' **Slytherin** ' sounded, walking calmly over to the green/silver clad table, scooting between two students whilst ignoring the death glares coming her way. To top everything off, she waved happily at the twins and Percy, cackling internally as she witnessed three separate but equally horrified faces at the head table take in the realization of her house placement.

Oh yes, this year would be _great fun_.

A/N: I'm having too much fun with this. Any who, reviews for the Soybean?


	9. Update

Hello All!

I'm just letting you know that I have not died, have not abandoned this story. I have had a lot going on with my personal and professional life. I'm working on the next chapter, but bear with me, I've had some creativity issues.

Right now its 2/13 and ive revised chapter 9 five or six times. I hope to have this out to you soon, but please be patient.

Thanks

Raven


	10. Chapter 9

She could actually prove this time she had nothing to do with the slight chaos that was starting to envelop the courtyard where she was being forced to learn how to fly on the thin piece of wood near her boot covered feet. She _hated_ heights, _despised_ them with every fiber of her being- it wasn't well known, but there is was: her one weakness-that she would admit- and now everyone would see. She didn't see the reason as to why magical beings who had portkeys, apparition and floo travel  needed to fly on brooms. The words _total cliché_ flowed through her mind several times during the lesson, her sneer very prominent on her lips.

She couldn't even feign interest. Not even for potential minions or her precious girl-who-has-too-many-dashes image. When Madam Hooch told everyone to mount, she failed to notice Ionait's still frame, only seeing her when every other student floated off the ground. Her sharp eyes focused on the slight girl immediately, seeing the contempt filled emerald eyes.

"Ms. Moriarty, what in blazes are you still doing off your broom?"

Again, Ionait sneered, kicking 'her' broom away from her. "You're not getting me wee form on that flimsy thing." She turned on her heels and marched away, trying to ignore Madam Hooch's ranting. "Screech all ye want madam, I'm. Not. Flying."

She finally escaped the courtyard, marching back into the school with her best impression of her uncle's 'don't give two shites about you' look on her face. ' _There'll be consequences over that, but I'm not risking-_ ' her thoughts were interrupted but yelling coming from the very area she left before a loud thump leads to the broken form of Neville Longbottom landing near her. His pain filled moaning reached her before racing footsteps neared the boy.

Ionait could hear Madam Hooch whispering to Neville, loud pain filled noises leaving the chubby boy; from how he landed, she could guess he broke at least one wrist & injured another.

This is nothing that concerned her; no, what concerned her was a certain fair haired Slytherin laughing very loudly while tossing a round object in the air. He was bragging about causing Longbottom's current predicament.

That would not do. Oh no, she would not take any egotists within her circle, outside of herself of course, because _come on_ she is a Moriarty after all. The fool would need to be taken down several pegs and Ionait knew exactly how to manage the impertinent heir. The grin spreading across her face sent chills down the spines of any who saw, including the Infirmary Matron rushing out to help the fallen Gryffindor.

* * *

The very loud, very prepubescent screech that left the first year boys dorm filtered down the steps, drawing the attention of all those in the common room, where Ionait and a large handful of others sat working on their homework, or in Ionait's case a letter home to her father about her second month at the drab Scottish school. Her previous letter about her placement was met with a gift of a brand new dagger from her uncle's mission in India, the bronze hilted blade now resting comfortable against her calf, and a detailed letter from her father about his great grandfather's paths to and from the dungeon based dormitory.

"WHO DID THIS?"

The sopping wet frame combined with neon green hair did nothing to compliment the proud pureblood, who tried to use drying charms three times while standing at the foot at the stairs-all failed of course because Ionait wanted them to. His face exploded in an array of red shades when laughter filled the common room, but his eyes locked on hers, finding her silence loudest of all. Her emerald eyes were lit up with manic energy similar to her father, resting back in her chair while the common room bustled with energy around her. Draco was frozen in place, fear threading its way down his spine at the raw anger emanating towards him from the petite brunette.

He remained frozen when she slipped from her seat and moved across the room with a grace reserved usually for elites and spies. She paused next to him, lips hovering near his ear.

"Find a way to act with more decorum, Mr. Malfoy, or I shall have to find more _creative_ ways to express my displeasure."

She sneered at him when a shiver runs through him, bypassing to move to her dorm to rethink her minions.

' _I need to overhaul. I will_ _not_ _have inferior specks in my web_.'

A/N: Sorry about the delay. This chapter was fighting me along with other things. I'm still not 100% happy with this one, but this is the result of 9 edits. Comments and questions are welcome.


	11. Chapter 10

Although the train had numerous warming charms built into it, Ionait couldn't help but shiver and pull her thick jacket around her, tucking her scarf tighter as the chill seeped from the window into her. She would have moved away from the offending portal if she was not taking over every other inch of the compartment with her things: these varied from her abused books, shoes, abandoned schoolwork, stolen items from other students, Professor Prude's favorite tea set-currently filled with the cat woman's favorite oolang, Headmaster Twinkle's lemon drop candies, a long list of potential and rejected minions, and her open trunk near the locked and warded door. She didn't feel like pretending to be friendly with any magicals right now and she was on the thought track of not returning after the winter holidays.

She was _that_ annoyed with everything and everyone. Besides her redheaded trio, everyone just  sat on her nerves between the constant demands for her to be 'a proper Potter' or the remarks on her sorting, & don't even get her started on Halloween; this day was never easy for her and it seemed the school demanded she be present and accounted for to show off about her supposed defeat of Old Moldyshorts. How she'd avoided detention for cursing several students baffled her, although made her happy so she didn't irritate her father or upset her uncle.

As the train neared London, she packed her trunk before shrinking it after changing out of the ridiculous wizarding apparel, all but throwing the vile robes into the depths of her trunk. She had tried to wear trousers after three months of the skirts and promptly got told that ' _it was against the dress code._ ' or how it was only proper that a lady from such a noble house such as Potter be seen in only proper attire. They stopped pestering her when a small bonfire was lit in the great hall with far more skirts then were owned in the school, a smug but hidden Ionait all but bouncing with glee.

While successful in her classes, she held no love for the wizarding subjects, as she quickly read the material and practiced the spells (or potions) with ease, losing any awe of the new school within a month. Added to the fact the uptight staff and students made Ionait _itch_ with the need to destroy their precious sameness and order, she couldn't wait to return to the energy that was her home with her father and uncle.

This is why she ignored all the bodies around her, pushing through the throngs of students before she flew off the train into her uncle's embrace, his arms tight around her waist as he lifted her and spun, her laughter filtering through the air before he set her down. His hands cupped her cheeks while his hazel eyes traveled over her form to check for any injuries or changes; finding none, he quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I've missed you so princess." Seb's words were whispered, meant only for her.

She couldn't help the smirk that formed. "Bet I've missed you more, Sebby."

He scoffed before pulling back and stepping aside, revealing her anxious father: his fingers twitched at his sides, pulling on the edges of his suit jacket, while he bounced on the balls of his feet. His dark eyes were set on her, filled with so many emotions it almost floored Ionait. Before she could speak though, he closed the small gap instantly, holding her tightly to his chest while her arms wrapped just as tight around him. Only Sebastian noted the attention they received-all positive reactions as far as he could tell, hell one woman was _cooing_ over the Moriarty pair.

"Mo chol beag, tá mé chaill tú." His voice was soft

Her eyes burned with the force of the tears she refused to spill in such a public place: she had not realized how much she missed the presence of both men. "Toisc go bhfuil mé caillte daidí agat. Ní maith liom a bheith ar shiúl ó leat."

The trio quickly left the station and folded into the back of the waiting car, Ionait all but attached to her father's side, head resting against his chest. Both men were quietly discussing various subject when her voice cut all other conversations off.

"What do you know about possessed human beings?"

* * *

A/N: So, I added the time skip because when I originally planned this story out, it wasn't meant to follow each and every aspect of the school year out. I like being able to move about the story as I feel progresses my story properly. I will not follow the canon plot line to the t, obviously, thus allowing myself to jump where I need to. I felt the need to explain this and I hope everyone understands that I will linger when needed and move when done with a plot point. As always, questions and reviews welcome.


	12. Update 2

Hi,

So, i'm hitting walls and blocks with this and other things. I refuse to put out subpar chapters just to produce content. I had a plan as to where i wanted this story to go and now i have three separate paths that im looking at for this plot. I will put out the chapter when i know it's up to the bar ive set for myself. I thank you all in advance for understanding.

Thanks

Raven


	13. Chapter 11

Ionait looked over the scene with mild irritation and much amusement; irritation because there were far more officers then she intended and amusement because the members of Scotland Yard around herself failed to recognize her as she glided away from the glaringly yellow crime scene tape that separated the public from the murder victims. The lower members she could dismiss, they had never seen her, but the head inspector…what his name, Ah Yes- Lestrade, he had met her just a couple years ago along with his two deputies and she knew he had gotten a good look at her face. She had been the 'victim' at the time, a terrified 13-year-old girl found in the middle of a bank heist; of course she had been there on purpose, wanting to see if her father's idea panned out and to see if the bait worked. She had seen him work his web over London with awe, helping when she could, and also watched his growing obsession with Sherlock Holmes-this not with awe but some dread.

She felt at times like she might be losing his attention to a man who would want to take her father from her or worse, kill him; she didn't admit out loud the frivolous and petty emotions to anyone, just let them seethe within her. She knew her uncle suspected but he kept quiet, the only sign he knew she was upset was the strong grip he would hold her shoulder with at meetings, never leaving her side, unless to go to her father.

But at times like now, she couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face, because she knew she would have all her father's attention when she got home. Her first successful kill and one where she had not lifted a finger to end a single life; no no no, they did that _all_ on their own- of course her silver tongue helped, not that anyone was around to tell the good inspector this. So, clad in her designer dress, flashy hair-do and far-too-high-heels, Ionait walked calmly away from the murder scene, just in time to see a cabby stop on her left and release the previously mentioned detective and his live-in pet. Both, of course, watched as she strutted past them, her eyes made to look like they were on her phone but watching their every move. It felt like a movie to her, that moment, like it was played out in slow motion; their door closed behind them as their eyes watched her, Sherlock's lips pressed thin as he processed her, Watson vaguely confused by her presence.

She knew she looked older then she was-that had been the plan- and knew it was already playing mind games with the detective; she and he had met on several random occasions, only a few being crime scenes, the rest ordinary events: anywhere from getting lunch at the restaurant below their flat, coffee at a random café, she had had a 'date' at his favorite Italian diner, & she'd been spotted by him walking in Hyde Park and around the London Eye. All while she was dressed her age, jeans and tee shirts with trainers that made her cringe; but never like this with the mature clothes and hairstyle. She flashed them both a smile that she knew resembled her father before continuing on, the movie scene moment passed as sound rushed back to normal, her phone pinging in her hands.

' _Well done little dove. Now, come home, you have a visitor whose_ _dying_ _to see you._ '

Ionait's smile widened until she felt her cheeks hurt. That meant a certain little red weasel had finally poked his head out and would get to have some fun. With a soft crack, she disappeared on the spot with an embellished twirl, appearing in front of her father.

" **Dove, I hope you aren't tired after today's events.** " He said this while tucking a stray hair behind her ear, eyes bright.

" **Of course not father, I failed to break a sweat.** " Her reply was accentuated by her wicked smile, which mirrored his, while turning her attention towards the bound redhead.

"Ah, I see you caught a rat father mine." Moving until she hovered over Ronald, who glared up at her, she smirked. "Nice to see you Weasel, been looking for you _for ages_." Tilting his chin up when he tried to look away, her smirk darkened. "I owe you for the scar on my back, thankfully Fred and George promised to look for you, since I would be busy." Patting his cheek, she stood back, locking eyes with her uncle over her father's shoulder, a subtle nod to him sending the sniper out to observe her previous location.

" **Well dove, whatever shall we do with him?** " Her father's voice was bouncy, feeding her own energy.

" **I'm thinking…we start with a little good old fashion torture. He did ruin my best dress father."**

In unison, both Moriarty faces light up with matching glee before turning to face the now frozen redhead. He paled as he took in the malice filled looks they were giving him, tremors building rapidly. A flick of Ionait's wrist had his chair floating before it began a slow decent backwards.

"Lie back and think of England, Mr Weasley, maybe the motherland will bring you peace."

* * *

A/N: Ok, SO sorry about any delay with this. I hit a wall and didn't want to throw rubbish at your inboxes just to produce content; this is how past stories have died with me and I didn't wish for this to occur again. I hope you like it and as always, reviews full the soybean that tis i.


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